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I 






LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER; 


OR, 


THE GREATEST MAN IN THE EAST. 


Comebji in irioe Acts. 


BY 


HENRY AMES BLOOD. 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by Henry Ames Blood, in 
the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

All Hqhts reserved. 


DRAMATIS PERSONAE. 




— • — 

I Lord Timothy Dexter, or, 

/ “ The Greatest Man in the East.** 
Plumison Peaches. 

Duke de Grandam. 

Bacheluer. 

Champney. 

Biluings. 

Babson. 

Lady Dexter. 

Timoline. 

Patty. 

Three Women. 

Lucy Lancaster. 


• • 
• « • 


Oilt. 

W. L. Siioemaker 


LOED TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


ACT 1. 

SCENE I. 

Neiohuryport, Massachusetts. A sumptuous apartment, the sides of which 
are ornamented with chronometers of various shapes and sizes. Present, 
Lord Dexter, elegantly dressed in the Continental style, and seated in a 
superb easy-chair ,'a la grand seigneur, fanning himself; and Champney, 
an artisan, who is making the rounds of the room, examining the clocks. 

Dex. How do they behave, my good Champney ? 

Cii. Quite as well as could be expected. But this one 
\^pomting^ seems to have gained more rapidly this week 
than last. 

Dex. {rising and advancing.) Ah ! You mean Julius 
Caesar? There can’t much be expected of Julius. Holloa, 
there, Julius ! \_addressing himself to the cloch.~\ Do you 
know, Mr. Julius, I shall sell you under the hammer, if you 
don’t behave yourself? ' 

Ch. My Lord, I think I can bring Julius all right ; but 
why do you call this particular clock Julius Caesar ? • 

Dex. Because he gits ahead of me, same as Julius Caesar 
got ahead of the rest of the world. That ’s a good reason, 
I hope. [ Walks about restlessly.'] 

Ch. {laughing.) A very good reason, indeed. But what 
is the name of this one ? \_Points to another.] 

Dex. I call him “ The Fourth of July.” He ’s so 
devilish independent I can’t do anything with him. This 
one [pointing to a third] is Robespierre, an almighty con- 
trary feller. This one is Demosthenes, he talks so loud. 
This one is old Pack-horse, the stiddiest in the whole 


4 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act J. 


crowd. This young feller don’t strike at all, and I call him 
Coward. They ’ve all got their names, Champney, and let 
’em change ’em if they dare. By the way, Champney, 
time ’s a curus thing, a’n’t it ? The curusest thing I know, 
is time. What do you think it is, Champney ? 

Ch. That ’s a hard question, my lord. 

Dex. I thought I should stump you. But I guess what 
it is. There ’s Julias Caesar now, he shows you when it ’s 
goin’ to rain. How could he do that unless time ’s in the 
air, Champney ? How about that ? 

Ch. I should n’t be surprised. 

Dex. Then, old Pack-horse, he shows me the changes of 
the moon, and so I say time ’s a lunary thing. That ’s clear, 
a’n’t it ? 

Ch. Of course. 

Dex. Then, Demosthenes, he wakes me up with his 
infernal brawlin’ in the middle of the night. What is it he 
wakes up ? \_Points to his forehead.~\ It ’s mind, a’n’t it ? 
Then, time ’s in the mind, you see. 

Ch. You have a way of putting things, my lord. 

Dex. 3Iore ’n all that, Champney. You can’t shoot a 
shadow, can you ? nor catch one in your hat ? Can you 
catch time in your hat, or shoot him ? Not much, I should 
say ; ergo, time ’s a shadow. 

Ch. Philosophy is a great matter, my lord. 

Dex. And when you want it cheap, my boy, come to my 
lord Dexter, “ The Greatest Man in the East.” [^Enter 
servant in livery. 

Ser. My lord, the distinguished stranger, Duke de 
Grandam, is below. 

Dex. Show him up. Ah, Champney, they can’t leave 
the Port without seeing the great man, can they ? 

Ch. Their curiosity is not remarkable, my lord. 

Dex. I should say not. Pm a curiosity myself. 

Ch. Shall I retire, my lord ? 

Dex. Certainly not. I want you to see us meet. Take 
a chair. \_Champney sits. Enter Duke de Grandam.~\ 
Happy to see you, Duke. 

Duke. I reciprocate your pleasure, my lord. 


Scene L] LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 

. ^ 

Dex. My friend, Mr. Champriey, Duke. \_.They shake 
hands.~\ Take chairs, gentlemen. \_Serva')it places chairs.'] 

Duke. My lord, the fame of your riches and remarkable 
sagacity has reached the shores of La Belle France.. 

Dex. Ah ! do they talk of me there, too ? 

Duke. Not only of you, but of your interesting family. 

Dex. {to serva?it.) Ask my Lady and Timoline to come 
in. \^Exit servant.] 

Duke. I have heard that when our good king Louis was 
beheaded, you made the church-bells to toll in his memory, 
and I thank you for it. 

Dex. I did that, all the way from Boston to Newbury- 
port. And more ! I thought the rest of the royalists would 
come over here, and I bought up the best meat and flour iii 
the market, and saved all against they came. The prices 
rose, and burn my face, I got the benefit of the rise. 

Duke. You deserved the profit. But you have accu- 
mulated wealth in various ways, I believe. 

Dex. Well, I should say I had. In the first place, 
Johnny Hancock, Tom Russell, and I bought up the Con- 
tinental money, and when they funded I was rich at one 
dash. But I didn’t stop there. Everything I touched 
turned to gold. Your nose would have gone yaller, if I’d 
* touched it. I sent vessels everywhere ; to Spain, Bombay, 
New Zealand. One day up comes my rigger, old Stack- 
pole, and he says, old Stackpole says, “ Great man, I must 
have some stay-stuff.” “ Very well,” says I ; and so, post- 
haste to Boston ; bought up all the whalebone in every port 
in two hundred miles ; and when the rest of mankind 
wanted whale, they had to come to my lord Dexter. I 
made a ton and a half clean silver on it. 

Duke. Excellent! 

Dex. But I had a gay dream once. Three nights run- 
nin’ I dreamed of warmin’-pans, nothin’ but warmin’-pans ; 
thought they wanted ’em down to the West Indies ; and 
burn my face ! I sent fifty thousand of ’em down there, in 
nine different ships. They went like hot cakes. “ Blessed 
good, indeed, missy ! ” all the niggers said. “ Cook mighty 
nice, massa 1 ” And what d’ ye think I made on the 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


6 .. 


[Act I. 


warmin’-pans down to the West Indies ? Two tons and a 
half clean silver. 

Duke. Is it possible ! 

Dex. Next time I bought up twenty thousand Bibles 
and sent ’em down there ; and sent a text, how they must 
all have one in every family, or gone to hell ; and my cap- 
tains bring me back another big pile o’ money. 

Duke. Truly, my lord, you wear the cap of Fortunatus ! 
\_Enter Timoline and Lady Dexter.~\ 

Dex. Lady Dexter, Duke de Grandarn! Timoline, my 
daughter ! [ They exchange courtesies, • and recognize Mr. 

Chanvpney. Servant places chairs.~\ 

' Duke, {aside.) Truly a very pretty girl. \_To Lady D.~\ 
I hope, madam, my call is not unseasonable. I was in 
haste to pay my respects to your family, of whom I have 
heard much in my own country. 

Lady D. It is none, too soon, my lord. Youxhave not 
always lived in France, I presume, from your speaking 
English so well. 

. Duke. No, madam ; I have spent nearly half my life in 
Jamaica. You have been there, I think. I have either 
seen or dreamed of your daughter’s face before. 

Dex. We were all there once, a few years ago. But, by 
the way, Duke, you han’t seen my grounds. Let’s go 
outside. 

Tim. Oh, yes, it ’s beautiful out. 

Duke. I should be delighted. 

[ The Duke offers his arm to Timoline ; Lady D. takes 
Mr. Champney's, and all exeunt.'] 

SCENE II. 

The grounds in front of Lord Dexter’s mansion, where are seen, standing 
on arches, the statues of many distinguished persons ; also, figures of 
lions ; also an effigy of a land), and one of an eagle. One statue, in a 
military garb, bears at its base the yiame of Washington. On the left, 
stands the statue of .Jefferson ; on the right, that of Adams, uncovered. 
In the rear are figures of Indian chiefs, generals, philosophers, and 
statesmen ; also of goddesses ; and one of Lord Dexter himself, ivith the 
inscription, “ The Greatest Man in the. East.” In the group on the 
centre arch, Jefferson holds in his hand an open scroll, representing the 
Declaration of Independence. Babson, Lord Dexter’s painter, is dis- 


Scene II.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


7 


covered lettering the scroll, on which he has advanced as far as “ Ihe 
Declaration.’' Enter Lord and Lady Dexter and daughter, Duke de 
Grandani, and Chanipney. 

Duke. Why, this is fairy-land. My lord, you have 
astonished the world. 

Dex. I should say I had. \_Approaches BahsonJ] Burn 
my face, Babson, that a’n* t the way to spell ‘‘ Constitution ! ” 
Bab. No, my lord, it is “Declaration,” — “The Dec- 
laration of Independence.” 

Dex. I don’t want “The Declaration of Independence ; ” 
I want “ Constitution.” 

Bab. But the scroll was intended for the Declaration, 
my lord, since Jefferson wrote the Declaration. 

Dex. Who the devil cares what he wrote ? I want 
“ Constitution,” and I’ll have “ Constitution.” \_Bah&on 
commences to paint the word “ off and Dexter hastens in 
great wrath to the mansion.^ 

Lady D. {looking mortified.) You see, my lord, that my 
husband has peculiar ideas. 

Duke {laughing.) Certainly he has a right to have the 
word “ Constitution,” if he likes it ; but what ’s the necessity 
of any words at all ? Everybody would know wliat the 
scroll meant. \_Enter Lord D. with a pistol, which he aims 
at the painter.'] 

Dex. Paint that “ Constitution,” I tell you ! \_ Bahson 

not stopping, he fires, hut misses him.] 

Tim. Oh, father, wliat are you doing? [^Bahson descends 
and retires behind the statues.] 

Dex. I slionld like to know who pays for this ? 

Duke {laughing.) That’s the question: wlio pays for 
it ? 

Tim. But my dear father, you might have killed Mr. Bab- 
son. • 

Dex. Burn his old face ! No danger ; lie ’s made to be 
hung! He needn’t be so almighty independent about his 
“ Independence.” \_Enter Lucy Lancaster, colored house- 
keeper, having great influence over I^ord D.] 

Lucy. For shame. Lord Dexter 1 Put down that pistol I 
\_He lays it down. She takes it and exit.] 


8 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act I. 


Duke. My lord, please explain why Mr. Adams, here, 
holds his hat in his hand, while your other presidents wear 
their chapeaus. 

Dex. The devil, my Lord ; don’t you see that? Adams 
was unfortunate enough to git on the right hand of Wash- 
ington, you see; and how can any man stand on Washing- 
ton’s right hand, with his hat on ! If Jefferson had got 
round on that side, I should have made him take off his hat, 
too. 

■ Duke. Why, really,.! never thought of that. But have 
you my countryman, Lafayette, here? 

. Dex. I had him here the other day, but he’s Bonaparte 
now. I ’ve changed his name. \_Approaches the statue of 
Bonaparte^ and, in honor of him, removes his hat, and hows 
profoundly.'] This is Bonaparte, my Lord. I never allow 
anybody to pass him without taking off his hat. 

Duke. Mon Dieu ! what am I to do, then? I’m a Le- 
gitimist. 

Dex. Then, don’t let him get his eye on you ! 

' Tlm. {to the Duke.) Do you not admire Napoleon ? 

Duke. As a general. Mademoiselle, certainly. \Enter 
Plumison Peaches, dressed in a long, black frock-coat, orna- 
mented with stars on the collar and. at the corners of the skirts, 
and with fringes of gold lace ; wearing shoes with large sil- 
ver buckles, and a cocked hat ; and carrying a gold-headed 
cane, and a basket on his arm.] 

Pea. {Sings.) Lord Dexter is a man of fame; 

Most celebrated is his name; 

More precious far than gold that ’s pure, 

Lord Dexter shine forevermore. 

Duke {to Timoline.) Why, whom have we here ? 

Tim. My father’s Poet-laureate. 

Dkx. Duke de Grandam, I have the honor to introduce 
to you my Poet-laureate, Plumison Peaches, Esq. 

. Pea. {shaking hands with the Duke.) 

. Duke de Grandam. Duke de Grandam, 

Thou shalt sometime drive a tandem. 

Duke. Eeally, a most admirable poet! very pat, isn’t he? 

Dex. What do you think, now, Duke ? 


Scene IL] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


9 


Duke. I am more and more surprised at everything I 
see. 

Pea. Hig noble house, it shines more bright 

Than Lebanon’s most pleasant height; 

Never was one who stepped therein, 

Who wanted to come out again. 


Duke {to Dexter.') I take it your country does not pro- 
duce many such poets ; it would be too exhaustive. But 
what does he carry in his basket ? 

Pea. {singing., and taking several loose sheets from the 

basket.) Eulogies and elegies and warnings; 

Accidents and suicides and drownings; 

Sometimes open and someiimes shet, 

A literary cabinet. 


Duke. This is wonderful. 

Pea. {solemnly.) Lord Dexter, I’ve had a dream. 

Dex. Well? 

Pea. Fringes, my Lord. 

Dex. What fringes ? • 

Pea. I can't wear ’em. 

Dex. Don’t I pay for ’em ? 

Pea. Yes, but it’s a cussed sin to wear fringes. 

Dex. Who told you that ridiculous nonsense ? 

Pea. Nobody told me; it was revealed. 

Dex. Bosh ! 

Pea. But I tell you, I ’m not going to wear fringes any 
Jonger. 

Dex. Ah, ha ! I see, — no longer ! They are long 
enough, now. 

Pea. I dreamed the devil caught me, and he held on to 
me by these fringes, my lord. 

Dex. Bah ! Did n’t Solomon wear fringes ? Solomon, 
the Magnificent ? And yet, Solomon could n’t sing like 
Plumison Peaches. 

Pea. Very well ; I ’ll keep on a wearin’ ’em, unless I 
have another o’ them dreams. [ Walks about singing.'\ 


His house is filled with sweet perfumes; 
Rich furniture doth fill his rooms: 

Inside and out it is adorned, 

And on the top an eagle ’s formed. 


10 LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. [Act I. 

[^Tnrns to the Duke.'\ Most noble Duke, will you accept 
a trifling elegy I have here ? [ Offers it.~\ 

Duke {taking it.) With the greatest pleasure. What is 
the majestic theme ? 

Pea. “ The Diseased Magpie.” 

Tim. He means “ The Deceased Magpie.” 

Duke {laughing.) What was the matter with it ? 

Pea. I think it is no matter what was the matter, so 
long as you know the poor magpie is dead. 

Duke. True ; very true. 

Pea. But I think perhaps this eulogy would suit you bet- 
ter. \_Hands him a sheet. 

Duke. And who might be the fortunate person deserv- 
ing so long a eulogy as this ? 

Pea. It is the founder of the Shakers. 

Duke {laughing.) What ! Eulogize in immortal verse 
the founder of a sect that loves neither wine, woman, nor 
song ! 

Pea. What difference does it make so long as you get 
the words all in ? 

Duke. Ah, yes, that is true. 

Pea. I have n’t spread it on very thick. I drew it mild. 

Dex. {chuckling.) He saves himself up for me. I take 
the cream, and the rest get the skim-milk. 

Pea. Perhaps you would like a warning. Here ’s a 
warning, now. \_Hands another sheet.'] 

Duke. Who is the unfortunate person to whom you have- 
felt obliged to administer this fearful admonition ? 

^ Pea. It is written, most noble Duke, to the Great Un- 
converted ; and also to the miscreants who steal my lord’s 
apples. 

Duke. Truly my lord Dexter, you have a prize in this 
egregious poet ; the most meretricious writer I have had 
the fortune to be acquainted with. He should be crowned 
with the greenest baize. 

Pea. {Bows profoundly ; then struts and sings.) 

His house is wliite and trimmed with green; 

For many miles it may be seen: 

It shines as briglit as any star; 

The fame of it has spread afar. 

[_Bxit, bowing profoundly.] 


Scene L] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


11 


Tim. {to the Duke.) The Laureate has a good voice; 
don’t you think so ? 

Duke. Excellent. 

Lady D. He ’s a good-natured soul. 

Dex. ( to the Duke.) Does the King of France also have 
his Poet-laureate ? 

Duke. He has a jester, or did have, poor king, while he 
lived. 

Dex. Then he did n’t have a Laureate ? 

Duke. I ’m not so sure about that. 

Dex. AYell, I don’t want a jester ; I can play the fool 
myself. 

Duke. Indeed, we all play the fool too much. Pardon 
me, if I speak with some flattery, hut I must confess that 
if ever I saw a place in which to learn wisdom, it is here. 

\_Curtain falls.'] 


ACT 11. 

SCENE 1. 

A wild heath, covered with dry grass, bushes, thistles, and vines ; one or 
two huts in the background. Among the bushes are three women, gath- 
ering herbs and berries in baskets. 

1st AVom. No, Lord Dexter’s not a bad man; he’s only 
a lucky fool. 

2d AA^om. But he drives a mighty hard bargain. 

3d AVom. AAHien he says a thing he means it, and he pays 
us exactly what he agrees to pay. 

2d AA^om. If I had his money, I’d be more generous. 

, 3d AVom. You think so ; but there a’n’t one man in fifty 
that ’s quite so decent when he has money, as he would be 
without it — nor woman either. 

1st AA^om. AYell, I thank God I han’t got any money, 
and I hope I never shall have. You know the town up 
there as well as I do, and you know there a’n’t a soul there 
half as happy as we be. 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


12 


[Act II. 


tlieir sleeves, to hear us tell ’em that ! But we know, we 
know. 

1st Wom. Oh, what a set of slaves they are ! A moth 
flew into my candle the other night, and I said, or some- 
thing made me say, “ This poor moth is no greater fool than 
a money-lover ! ” It didn’t seem to me that I said it,. but 
just as if some spirit in the air borrowed my lips, and said 
it for himself. 

2d Wom. Who on earth can be happier than we be, with 
nothing in the world to do but pick berries, and hyssop, and 
balm, and sweet fern in the sunshine ! 

3d Wom. And when the night comes, to be under the 
stars, and sing, and laugh, and dance, and tell new stories ! 
But where ’s little Patty ? \_Enter Patty., a young girl, 
dancing.~\ Ah, here she is ! Patty, darling, give us the 
song the poet wrote for you. 

Patty {pausing in her dancei) Do you mean the one 
Mr. Peaches wrote ? 

3d Wom. Oh, no ! that was more a sermon than a song. 
You know the one I mean. 

Patty. This one, perhaps. (Sings.) 

* Oh, come where the sweet wild roses blow! 

Oh, come where creeps the vine ! 

And all in the sunshine, to and fro. 

The birds, the bees, and the butterflies go ! 

Oh, come ! oh, come ! 

Under the eglantine 1 

Oh, come where the pleasant waters flow, 

All in the sweet sunshine ! 

Where the green mint and the cresses grow; 

And over the pebbles the foam-flakes go ! 

Oh, come ! oh, come ! 

Under the eglantine 1 

3d Wom. That’s the song, and you sung it well. 

Patty. Methiiiks I love that good poet. 

2d Wom. Oh pshaw, Patty ! I presume he ’s not half as 
good as his verses. 

Patty. I ’ll find that out for myself. Do you know he ’s 
over there, this very moment, under the pine-tree ? Come, 
and bring him some berries ! 

All. Yes, Patty. [Exeunt. Enter, opposite. Lady and 


Scene I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


13 


Timoline Dexter^ in riding haiits, with whips in their 
hands. 

Tim. Where are they ? That was a charming song. 

Lady D. Well sung, you mean ; but rather an indifferent 
song. 

IhM. Indeed, I thought it quite equal to Mr. Peaches. I 
really believe Mr. Champney wrote it. 

Lady D. Suppose he did, my dear ? 

Tim. Mamma, it is useless to deny that I love him. 

Lady D. Oh, Timmy, don’t say so. You must be the 
Duchess de Grandam. Your father and I llave both set our 
hearts upon it. 

Tim. I cannot endure that man. . 

Lady D. There ’s one thing certain.. Your father shall 
not force you to the match, unless you can make up your 
mind do love him. 

Tim. That ’s a good mother ! \_Emhracing her.~\ Come 
now, let ’s have our fortunes told. \_Enter Patty. '\ Ah, 
Patty, was it you that sang so sweetly ? I might have 
known it. 

Patty. I was singing, but I know not how well. 

Lady D. AVill you not sing for us ? 

Patty. I will call my aunty, and if she says so, I will 
sing. \_Exit.~\ 

Lady D. It is her aunt that tells fortunes. 

Tim. Now, mamma, if her aunt says I shall marry Mr. 
Champney, why, of course, I shall have to marry him. 

Lady D. She will not say so. Indeed, if she does say so, 
I ’ll give my consent. But you must n’t say a single word 
to her about it. 

Tim. No, not a word. \_Enter Patty and the three 
wonien.~\ 

Patty. She says I may sing. [ The three women courtesy 
to Lady D. and Timoline., who how., and speak to the aunt of 
Patty. What shall I sing ? 

Tim. Sing something about love. 

Lady D. Hush, child ! Let her sing of nature. 

Tim. And is not love that? 

Lady D. {laughing.) It ought to be. 


14 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[A err II. 


Patty. I will sing of both. 

“ Free! free! ” the little brooks cry; 

And they laugh and they frolic by ; 

And the sparrows chirp and the robins trill 
All at their own sweet will; 

Then why, oh, why 
May not we love, my love and I V 

“ Free ! free ! ” is the song of the sea, 

And the song of the wind on the lea; 

And the waves dash high, and the sea-gulls play, 

All in their own wild Avay; 

Then why, oh, why 
May not we love, my love and I ? 

Tim. {clapping her hands.) The very song I wished ; 
and you sang it divinely. • 

Lady D. You did sing it well, indeed. 

Tim. I thank you, Patty. And now, before we are 
obliged to go, will not your aunt tell our fortunes ? 

1st Wom. Certainly. Pat your hand in mine. \_Tim- 
oline complies. The woman scans jit intently.'^ This line 
means much ; but here is the stronger line, and I see that 
your better fortunes will prevail. A man of the world has 
evil designs upon you. Your eyes are even now open, and 
you guess whom I mean. Avoid that man. But there 
lives' one in humble circumstances, who truly loves you. 
Him you will marry. Enough to say now that you see him 
every day. 

. Tim. And you will not give me his name ? 

1st Wom. I cannot do that. I am not permitted. 

. Tim. Who wrote the song which Patty just now sang ? 

1st Wom. Ah ! Maybe I need not tell you any more ! 
But come, ladies, we will spread a carpet on the grass, and 
have some new milk and fresh berries. \_To Lady D.~\ 
Shall I also tell your fortune ? 

Lady D. No, I thank you. I am too old for that. 
There must be little of either bad or good left for me. But 
I shall be delighted with your milk and berries. Here is a 
trifle [taking money from her piirse~\ for the fortune you ’ve 
already told. I beg you will accept it. 

1st Wom. You may give it to the child. 

Lady D. Take it,* Patty ; I’ll assure you the song was 
worth ten times as much. 


SCKNE I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


15 


Patty {taking the money. ^ Ah me, to pay you for this I ' 
shall have to sing another song. 

Tim. Truly, Patty, if you will be so good, I will send 
you something beautiful. 

Patty. If you only love me, that’s all I ask. But 
that’s nearly what the song says. 

Come not to me with buds and flowers, 

Though the loveliest of their clime! 

Come not to me witli the painter’s praise, 

Nor with the poet’s rhyme ! 

All these have been mine before; 

Ah me I I ask no more, no more, 

If you will only love me ! 

I ask you not for rubies, nor pearls. 

Nor diamonds from the mine; 

Go, give to the heartless ones your gems, 

Your jewels to the fine. 

It is your love I implore; 

Ah me I I ask no more, no more, , 

If you will only love me. 

Tim. Yes, Patty, I will love you, not only for your sweet 
voice, but for your goodness. 

Lady D. (looking at her loatcli.') Really, my child [^to 
Timoline'], I had not supposed it could be so late. We 
shall have to forego the fresh berries and the new milk so 
kindly offered us. 

2d Wom. At any rate, your horses have been fed, for I 
told our Jack to see to them. 

' Lady D. You are very kind. Be sure to visit our house 
when you come to town, and we will return the compliment. 
So, then, good-by, and good luck to all of you. 

Tim. {caressing Patty.) And you, Patty, I shall be al- 
most angry with you if you do not come to see me very 
often. Good-by. Good-by. \_Exeunt.'] 

• 3d Wom. If only all women were as good! I will go 
and see them safely off. [Exit.'] ’ 

2d Wom. I doubt if Lord Dexter knows what a fine girl 
that is. . _ . 

1st Wom. He! All he knows is, that he’s rich as 
Croesus; and the devil take the hindmost. \_Enter’Lord D. 
with a riding-whip . _ . . 


16 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act II. 


Dex. How d’ ye do, sisters ? Burn my face, if I han’t 
been ridin’ like a post-hoss ; and I can’t find ’em anywhere. 
You han’t seen my gals round here anywhere, have 
you? 

1st Wom. If you mean your wife and daughter, they’ve 
been here and gone. 

Dex. Well, if they ’ve gone, I can’t catch ’em. They 
beat me every time. But come, sister [to Is^ woman\ 
you would n’t let me pay you for the fortune you told me, 
t’ other day, and now you ’ve got to take this gold-piece. 
[Holds out a ten-dollar gold-piece.~\ 

1st Wom. Never, my lord. 

Dex. But I say you shall. 

1st Wom. Upon my word, I don’t see how you can 
make me do it. 

Dex. But I see ! [drawing and presenting his pistol.^ It ’s 
only ten dollars. Now take it or off goes the pistol. 

1st Wom. {taking the money.) I did n’t think you would 
go that far. 

Dex. Did n’t I tell you ? Now, sister, we ’re even ; and 
so, God bless you ; I must back again. [Exit.'] 

SCENE II. 

Lord Dexter's library, lined with books in showy binding. Enter Champ- 

ney and Duke de Grandam. 

Duke. Quite a large collection, Mr. Champney !- 

Ch. It would seem so, my lord, but [looking furtively 
around and putting his finger to his lips] to tell you the 
truth, they are not all books that seem to be. You remem- 
ber the “painted ship” on the “painted ocean?” Well, 
[pointing to the upper shelves] this is on the same principle. 
Those upper rows are nothing in the world but fresco. 

- Duke. The deuce you say ! The most innocent person 
then could scarcely be injured by them ? 

■ Ch. I mentioned this in order that you might not inquire 
too persistently respecting the books in the upper rows, you 
see. 

Duke. > That was good in you. [Enter Lord and Lady 
D. and Timoline.] 


Scene II.] LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 17 

Dex. I am glad to see that you are fond of books, 
my lord. 

Duke. I was sincerely admiring your collection ; and 
especially the large volumes on the upper shelves. \_Ghamp- 
7iey, hy dumb signs., tries to prevent the Duke from making 
farther allusion to the upper shelves ; but the Duke ma- 
liciously ignores him.~\ I was particularly attracted by that 
magnificent edition of Boswell’s “ Johnson,” on the very top 
shelf. 

Dex. {grandiloquently.) That’s the best edition of Boz- 
zell in the United States. 

Duke. Would you be good enough to have the servant 
take it down for me ? It is truly wonderful. [ Ohampney 
looks distressed.~\ 

Dex. Sometime, my lord, I should be delighted: but the 
boy has a lame back now, and besides, I can’t find any lad- 
der. It has been carried off. 

Duke. I can reach it myself, I think, if you will allow me 
to put a chair on your table here. [ Ghampney, much an- 
noyed., talks with the ladies.'] 

Dex. Positively, my lord, I could not think of such a 
thing. The idea of a duke climbing up there like a mon- 
key ! 

Duke. Ladies, would you have any objection to my put- 
ting a chair on your table ? 

Tim. Certainly not. [ The Duke then puts a chair on the 
table, and by the aid of another chair steps on the table. 
While he is doing this Dexter walks about in apparent anx- 
iety.] 

Dex. My lord, you hold on ; let me get up ! 

Duke. Oh no, indeed. \_Steps on chair and reaches for 
the books, but finds a smooth surface over which he rubs his 
hand.] AVhy, how ’s this, my lord ? There is no book here. 
This is paint. 

Dex. {desperately.) Vll/ veil, you see what you get by 
too p^^ch curiosity. That shelf was painted there to pro 
vok^curiosity. [ The Duke looks nonplussed.] I wanted 
to spare you the mortification, but you would n’t listen to 
me. 


2 


18 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act II. 


Duke {descending.) I confess, my lord, it was all my 
fault. [ Champney and the ladies appear much amused.^ while 
Dexter holds his sides to prevent laughing. 

Dex. (aside.) I got out o’ that, pretty well, burn my 
face ! 

Duke (forcing a laugh.) My lord, it served me rightly 
to be sold in that manner. I suppose [looking around'] 
you have read all these books ? 

Dex. From end to end, a dozen times. 

Duke. I could not otherwise account for the extraordi- 
nary information you possess on almost every subject. 

- Dex. Well, now, that is a very handsome compliment, 
and I flatter myself, quite well deserved. 

Duke. On the whole, my lord, which among this large 
assortment of books are your favorites ? 

Dex. The greatest book on them shelves is “ The Bon 
Ton Magazine.” 

Duke. What ! greater than Shakespeare ? Bacon ? 
Cicero ? Homer ? — for I see you have all these. 

Dex. Greater than even Bornel Thornton ! 

Duke. Is it possible! I should think, then, it would 
rather strain one’s liver to digest it. But [turning to the 
ladies] do you agree with my lord on this subject ? 

Lady D. I must confess that T never appreciated the 
“ Bon Ton Magazine.” 

Tim. And I am sure that I like Sterne much better than 
any you have named. 

• Duke. And what do you say, Mr. Champney? 

Ch. I say, every man to his taste. 

Duke, (to Lord D.) The fame ’ of another book has 
reached me, the work of your own hands. 

. Dex. Very likely. 

Duke. The title of that book is well known, — “A 
Pickle for the Knowing Ones.” Have you a copy ? 

Dex. (taking down a book.) There it is; and good 
enough, I flatter myself. 

Duke (examining it.) That was a brilliant innovation 
on the established rules, my lord, to leave out such ridicu- 
lous incumbrances as the marks of punctuation. 


Scene II.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


19 


Dex. Everybody says it’s a grand invention. But I had 
a page put in at the end, of nothin’ else in the world but 
commys and colons and sclameration-pints ; and over all I 
writ these now famous words : “ They may pepper and scdt 
it as they please'^ 

Duke. Great book, my lord, great book ! But what did 
the reviewers say ? 

Dex. What could they say? I had ’em all by the nose. 

Duke. That ’s a splendid metaphor, my lord. 

Dex. I ’m writin’ another book, already. 

Duke. Ah ! And what may the title be ? 

Dex. “ The Devil’s Darn-needle.” 

Duke. That’s the popular name of the dragon-fly, I be- 
lieve ? 

Dex. I should n’t wonder. But you see, I ’m the Devil’s 
Darn-needle, myself, or at least, I ’m goin’ to be. 

Duke. How ’s that ? 

Dex. Why, you see, I can’t keep still, now, and how the 
devil am I ever goin’ to keep still ? When I die, I shall go 
plump into a Devil’s Darn-needle. That ere ’s an animal 
as never stops, you see. He ’s here, there, and everywhere, 
all at the same time. Hurrah for the Devil’s Darn-needle ! 
\_Dances about the room. Enter Peaches with his basket as be- 
fore. Dexter seizes and compels him to dance with him. The 
Duke.) Champney., and the ladies converse., and watch the evolu- 
tions of Dexter and the Laureate. Peaches extricates himself 
from the grasp of Dexter., and sits down., apparently out of 
breath. At this point several clocks are heard to strike.~\ 

■ Dex. (after listening a minute.) Champney, what the 
devil ’s the matter with them clocks ? Don’t you hear 
old Demosthenes, there, bawlin’ away as if he had the 
roarin’ stomik’-ache ? — and Julius Caesar, immortal Julius, 
a-callin’ him a liar ? For God’s sake, Champney, go in there 
and ask them, politely, if they can’t keep still awhile. I 
should like to hear myself talk. No, Champney, we’ll 
all go in. They ’ll never stop for you alone. If they see 
us all cornin’ it ’ll frighten ’em. I’ll take the lead. [ Walks 
off. valiantly. • The 'rest follow, laughing.^ 


20 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER, 


[Act III. 


ACT III. 

SCENE 1. 

The retreat of the astrologer, Bachelder. The room is surrounded with 
maps of the heavens and charts representing the twelve signs of the Zo- 
diac, etc. Bachelder sits resting his elbows on a low black table, upon 
which he is casting a horoscope in chalk. Around the edges of the table 
are seen folio books, an hour-glass, a skull, a pile of coin, a statuette of 
Fortune, etc. 

Bach, {throwing doion the chalk.) And so it seems these 
planets, millions of miles away, influence our conditions. 
But when I was born, it is plain enough only the rascal 
stars were abroad, else with my brains, I should not sit 
here, the poor-fed grub of innumerable asses, who first saw 
light with Sirius and Capella in ascendant. \_Enter Dexter 
My lord, you are late. 

Dex. It ’s my star’s fault if I be. 

Bach. • Undoubtedly. 

Dex. My good Bachelder, I would fain find out what vil- 
lain was in my melon-patch last night. . 

Bach. You come to the wrong place. We trace not col- 
licky stuff with the starry science, nor any such litter. Go 
to your Madam Hooper ! She has a nose will smell you out 
a petit-larceny. Trouble me not with mince-meat matters ! 
I have nearly completed your horoscope. 

Dex. I thought you would have it done by this. 

Bach. A great man’s horoscope requires time. . 

Dex. But suppose I should die before you get it all cast. 
Bach. That cannot well be. To occasion death, the hy- 
leg must be affected by an evil aspect to the anaretical stars, 
and these must ,be afflicted of themselves ; for life will be 
preserved, if at the same time the hyleg be aspected by Ju- 
piter, or with eight or twelve degrees of Venus, which I 
perceive to be your case, as it now stands. 

Dex. Is there any way of keepin’ things in that condition ? 
Bach, {laughing.) Pardon me, my lord, that I should 
laugh. But reflect a moment, and you will see that to keep 
things in that condition we should have ,to control the stars, 
instead of their controlling us. 


Scene I.] LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 21 

Dex. I did n’t know exactly what an astrologer might do 
at a pinch. 

Bach. I cannot stop the influence, but I can foretell it. 
I have already ascertained that when you were born, the 
sign ascending, and its lord, were in fiery triplicity. Does 
that satisfy you ? 

Dex. I suppose that ought to satisfy any reasonable man ; 
but I don’t know as I understand exactly what you mean ? 

Bach. Remember, then, that you are the Querent, while 
I am the Quesited. Can you remember that ? 

Dex. Certainly. 

Bach. Well, then, what is it that I requested you to 
remember ? 

Dex. That I was a queer ant, — and you was a queerer 
one, did you say ? 

Bach, {laughing.) I was afraid you would not remember 
it. 

Dex. Is it absolutely necessary that I remember it ? 

Bach. It would be better ; but then, if you can’t, you 
can’t. And by the way, that is one of the great lessons of 
astrology. You can, at least, remember that, my lord, — to 
wit, that if you can’t, why then you can’t. 

Dex. I thought I knew that before. 

Bach. Undoubtedly you thought so ; but to know is one 
thing, and to think you know is quite another. 

Dex. Burn my face, that never occurred to me before. 

Bach. And I suppose it never occurred to you that the 
malefic asjjects of the planets are the semi-quartile, the 
semi-square, the sesqui-quadrate, and the opposition ? 

Dex. Never ! 

Bach. Nevertheless, that is true ; and it will be well for 
you to bear that fact in mind. 

Dex. If you could once git that on my mind, I could 
hold to it. But somehow or other, it seems sort o’ misty- 
like ; yet once there {^'pointing to his forehead~\ it sticks like 
Death to a dead mule. 

Bach. That ’s what makes you a great man, my lord. I 
should no more think of broaching a proposition of that 
magnitude to Madam Hooper, or any of your common 


22 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act III. 


minds, than I would think of eating the mule of which you 
speak. But see here your horoscope. \_Dexter examines 
with a dazed aspect the figure on the table.'] You see here 
the fiery Trigon, the airy Trigon, the earthy Trigon, and 
the watery Trigon ; the twelve celestial houses. 

Dex. What is this Trigon ? Burn my face, but you 
scare me a little with this Trigon. 

Bach. Which ? the fiery Trigon ? 

Dex. All of ’em ! But the fiery Trigon is the wust. It 
a’n’t a cannibal, is it ? 

Bach. Not exactly ; but it is very well that you have a 
healthy dread of either one of them. 

Dex. If you have no objection, I ’d a little rather you 
would n’t mention them again. It might put somethin’ into 
their heads, you see, to hear themselves spoke of in that 
way. 

Bach. It would certainly be no joke if either of them 
did get some notion in his head. 

Dex. I guess, as long as you ha’n’t made the horoscope 
yit, the safest way for me will be to come agin, when things 
looks a little better. Have you got a lantern I can take 
along ? it ’s pretty dark out. 

Bach. Certainly. \_Brings lantern.] So long as you 
have this lantern with you, the Trigons can’t hurt you in 
the least ; especially if I draw a charm here on the table, as 
you cross the threshold. \_Lights lantern and hands it to 
Dexter.] 

Dex. I am very much obleeged to you \_going]. You 
draw the charm now, don’t you ? 

Bach. Yes, my lord. \_Marhs with chalk.] All right ! 
You can make it safely. \_Exit Dexter.] Was ever such 
an incomparable dunce ? But the best fish yet in my net. 
\_A knock is heard.] Come in ! \_Enter Duke.] Walk in, 
sir. Ah, I perceive it is the Duke de Grandam. 

Duke. The same. Mr. Bachelder, I believe. 

Bach. Yes, my lord. Take a chair. \_The Duke sits.] 

Duke. I am told that you are an astrologer. 

Bach. I am. 

Duke. I have come to learn my horoscope. 


Scene I.] LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 23 

Bach. Can you tell me the exact minute of your birth ? 

Duke. T can. 

Bach. I will then do what you wish. 

Duke. I was born on the twenty-eighth day of February, 
1760, at 7:47 a. m. 

Bach, {writing it.) On the twenty-eighth February, 
1760, 7:47 a. m. 

Duke. But I will observe, that I haven’t that entire con- 
fidence in your science that I wish I had. 

Bach. Why, then, my lord, do you give me the honor of 
this visit ? 

Duke. Solely on the strength of the marvelous things I 
have heard of you. 

Bach. Have you not also heard of those world-famed 
Doctors of the Starry Science, Palamedes, Thales, Democ- 
ritus, Anaxagoras, Hippocrates, Anaximander, Virgil, Ap- 
polonius Tyaneus, Nostrodamus, Valentine Narbod, William 
Lilly, Guido Bonatus, Michael Scott, Aiitiochus Tibertus ? 

Duke. Yes, I have. 

Bach. Do you not remember that Julius Cjesar noted 
the revolutions of the stars in the midst of preparations for 
battle ? 

Duke. Yes, but I also remember — 

“ Hermogenes, by Diophantus told 
He shouldn’t live a month, said, ‘ Good my friend, 

In telling me my destiny you are bold; 

For truly, sir, your own life ’s near its end.’ 

And then he strook him fatally ; and so he fell 
While he Hermogenes’ sad fate did tell.” 

Bach. But how did Hermogenes turn out ? The poet 
has forgotten to tell us that. 

Duke. Very true; I had not observed that omission. 

Bach. I can tell you. According to the best accounts, 
the prophecy came true. Do you not also remember the 
case of Ficus, Earl of Mirandola, who, from his antipathy 
to the art, was named “ The Scourge of Astrology,” but to 
whom it was foretold by three different astrologers that he 
should not live above the age of thirty-three ? and how he 
did die at precisely that age ? 

Duke. I must confess that there is much force in what 


24 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. [Act III. 

you say. But tell me, now, what is likely to happen to me 
in the way of wedlock ? 

Bach. You wish to know if you shall marry a particular 
person ? I can solicit information as regards a hypothetical 
case. I will suppose, for example, in my inquiry through 
the celestial house, that the question is if you will marry a 
certain young lady about the size of my' lord’s Timoline ? 

Duke. Very well, I am satisfied. 

Bach. I suppose, then, we understand each other ? 

Duke. If we do, it will not he a losing affair. And now, 
\rising~\ as I have finished my errand, I will retire. Good- 
by ! \_Extends his hand.~\ 

Bach, {shaking the Duke’s hand.) Good evening, my 
lord. \_Exit Duke.'] So, then, here is another suitor to the 
pretty — the pretty fortune of Lord Dexter ! \_Enter 
Peaches.'] Holloa, Peaches ! are you also in search of a 
wife ? 

Pea. {sitting.) Mr. Bachelder, I am astonished that you 
should dream of such a thing. I ’m in search of material. 
This Lord Dexter is so awful exacting. I ’m all run out of 
similes, and I came to get hold of something new. I ’ve 
compared my lord to everything wonderful on the earth, in 
the water, and in the air, but he ’s hungrier ’n ever. Now, 
if you ’ll please give me the names of the lucky stars, I can 
keep up ; but if you refuse, I ’m a gone sucker. 

Bach. But does my lord furnish you with a plentiful 
supply of wine ? I will be haj^py to exchange a few stars 
for a quantity of good old sherry ? 

Pea. Is that so? He’s never given me any wine yet, 
' but if you ’ll tell him that ’s the custom, he will. As for the 
wine, you can have it all, for I ’m a cold-water poet. 

Bach. Mr. Peaches, don’t you know it ’s perfectly ridic- 
ulous to think you can write poetry on cold water ? 

Pea. But I have written reams of it ; and everybody 
says it ’s mighty good poetry. 

Bach. Mr. Peaches, when everybody says that, it is time 
you began to doubt what everybody says. They said that 
once of Mr. Abraham Cowley, and a thousand others, whom 
nobody, nowadays, ever hears of. 


Scene L] LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. ' 25 

Pea. Well, if you ’ll give me the stars to fall back on, 
there ’s no doubt but I shall make it go. 

Bach. Stars and cold water, you ’ll find, make a devilish 
thin, collicky diet. But 1 will cram you, Peaches, so you 
shall dream of nothing else but stars. I will not yet put 
you ill the milky way, but reserve that blessing until I taste 
the (piality of my lord’s Amontillado. How many stars will 
you take the first time ? 

Pea. For the present I shall be satisfied with half a 
dozen. 

Bach, (rapidly.) Herschel, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, 
Mercury. 

Pea. Not so fast ! not so fast ! my dear Bachelder ! 

Bach. I was endeavoring to impress upon your mind the 
tremendous rapidity with which these noble personages trav- 
erse the heavens. 

Pea. The devil could n’t catch ’em ? What was the 
first you mentioned ? 

Bach. Herschel. 

Pea. Herschel ? How on earth am I goin’ to rhyme 
that? 

Bach. AVith your usual accuracy, of course. You can 
rhyme “ Herschel ” with “ bushel,” “ Churchill,” “ satchel,” 
and a thousand other words. 

Pea. So I can ! Mr. Bachelder, you, too, might have 
been a poet. And now I think of it, if your name had 
been Bachel instead of Bachelder, I might very easily rhyme 
“ Herschel ” with “ Bachel.” 

Bach. That ’s just my devilish luck, Mr. Peaches. If 
my name had only been Bachel, you had made me im- 
mortal. 

Pea. It ’s too bad ! It is really too bad. 

Bach, (sorrowfully.) Ah, me ! Upon my word. Peaches, 
this makes me melancholy. 

■ Pea. Oh, now, don’t take on about it ! There is one 
thing I can do, — I can write an ode to you, if your name 
won't rhyme. 

Bach, (dejectedly.) Alas, Mr. Peaches, that, too, is out 
of the question, at least so long as Lord Dexter lives. He 
would never permit you to celebrate any one but himself. 


26 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act III. 


Pea. [despairingly.) Confound it. 

Bach. That ’s what ’s the matter, Mr. Peaches. How- 
ever, I am casting my lord’s horoscope, and it is of course 
possible that I shall find he is not destined to live forever ; 
and ill that case I may have a chance yet. 

Pea. Heavens ! You don’t think he ’s goin’ to die soon, 
do you ? That would sadly interfere with my bread and 
butter. 

Bach. I see, Mr. Peaches, it is always Number One, 
first. You forget that with me it is a question of being 
made immortal. 

Pea. I beg your pardon, Mr. Bachelder, but you must 
acknowledge that unless I git that article of bread and but- 
ter somehow provided for, the ode is nowhere, and your 
gravy is all spilt. 

Bach. I ’ll starve myself first ; for if I died, it would only 
be a few years less of a dull and uneventful vegetation, and 
to be embalmed in eternal verse, I could well afford the 
loss. 

Pea. I should say that course would be wise in you, if it 
came to a pinch, and we could n’t both live. But what was 
the name of the second star you mentioned ? 

Bach. Saturn. You can have Saturn with rinjrs or with- 
out rings. 

Pea. I don’t know exactly what you mean, but my 
motto is to take all I can git, and so I ’ll take him with 
rings. I ’ll set him down “ with rings.” [ Writes in a note- 
book.'] What next? 

Bach. Jupiter. 

Pea. {writing.) Jupiter is down. And next? 

Bach. Mars. 

Pea. Mars? M — A — S? Is that the way you spell it? 

Bach. Never mind the spelling. Dexter won’t know 
whether it is right or not. 

Pea. What was the next ? 

Bach. Venus. 

Pea. A^enus was a female. How am I goin’ to compare 
my lord to Venus? 

Bach. I give it up. 


Scene I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


27 


Pea. What was the other one ? 

Bacii. Mercury. 

Pea. That ’s worse to rhyme than Herschel. 

Bach. Oh, no, it ’s the easiest of all. It rhymes with B, 
C, D, E, G, P, T, V, Z. Mercuree, don’t -you see ? 

Pea. Mercuree! Oh, yes, that’s capital. But give me 
one more. 

Bach. Sirius. 

Pea. Perfectly serious. 

Bach. Nonsense! 

Pea. But I am serious, I tell you. 

Bach. Mr. Peaches, Sirius is the name of a star. • 

Pea. If it is, then I am a star. 

Bach. Don’t you believe what I tell you ? 

Pea. Did n’t I admit I was serious? 

Bach. Mr. Peaches, I am talking about one thing, and 
you are talking about quite a different thing. I said there 
was a star called Sirius. Do you understand me now ? 

Pea. I think I do, now. But why on earth do you call 
one star more serious than another ? I think they are all 
melancholy enough. 

Bach. I cannot suspect you, Mr. Peaches, of willfully 
misunderstanding what I say, and yet I should think a very 
slight provision of common sense would teach you, that 
when I say there is one star called Sirius, I am not describ- 
ing the condition of tliat star. 

Pea. Ah, Mr. Bachelder, now I understand you. You 
mean that it is simply called serious, but that in fact it is 
not serious. 

Bach. Good Lord, Mr. Peaches ! I did contemplate tak- 
ing you into the Zodiac, but I give it up. 

Pea. I don’t want to git into any pokerish places, if I 
know it. 

Bach. Why, Peaches, you don’t imagine I would take 
you where I would n’t go myself? 

Pea. I ’d rather see it before I venture. No dark 
rooms for me, if you please, and none of your traps. 

Bach. Then you think the Zodiac is a dark room or a 
trap ? 


28 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act IV 


Pea. How do T know it a’n’t ? 

Bach. Just step outside a minute, and I ’ll show you' 
one of the signs of the Zodiac. 

Pea. I ’ll go on one condition. 

Bach. Well, and what is that? 

Pea. That you’ll take a lantern with you. 

Bach, {laughing.) Would’st look at Aquarius with a 
lantern? Would’st pry into the secrets of the heavenly 
Virgo, with a tallow-candle ? O Peaches, Peaches ! when 
you were born, Leo, certainly, was neither in ascendant, nor 
on the cusp of the ascendant. 

Pea. ,{aside.) He must be crazy. I ’ll wish him good 
evening. Be calm, Mr. Bachelder. I am afraid this busi- 
ness of yours has a tendency to unsettle the mind. 

Bach. Poets and astrologers are alike insane. 

Pea. Good evening, Mr. Bachelder. 

Bach. Good evening. Don’t forget that I sold you the 
stars, and that you have promised to write an ode to me. 

Pea. You may look on yourself as a made man. 

Bach. Ah, me, what a world ! [ Curtain falls.'\ 


ACT IV. 

SCENE I. 

The Library. Enter Dexter and Lucy Lancaster. 

Dex. Lucy, it ’s a blasted shame if I can’t make that girl 
marry the Duke. 

Lucy. Indeed, my lord, I wouldn’t marry him if he were . 
a dozen dukes. ‘ 

Dex. Burn my face, Lucy, I’d like to know how she’s 
goiii’ to make out any better. 

Lucy. It depends on what you want her to marry for. 
If title is all you want, why, she ’ll have that from you. 

Dex. But I’m not a sure-enough lord, you know; and 
De Grandam ’s a regular duke. He ’s got a “ De ” on to his 
name, don’t you see ? 


Scene I.] LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 29 

Lucy. Then you want your daughter to marry for a title, 
and title only. 

Dkx. Why not ? IVe got everything else; money by 
the cart-load. 

Lucy. And for what reason do you think this duke 
wishes to marry your daughter ? 

Dex. (Jiesitating and fumhling at his watch-chain.) Why, 
Lucy, it must be for her money. ' 

Lucy. Perhaps, then, he would take the money without 
the wife ? Might he not prefer that ? 

Dex. Damn him, he shan’t have her ! He shan’t have 
my Timmy ! 

Lucy. You seem to have changed your, mind suddenly. * 

Dex. Well, now, how do you know he don’t love 
Timmy ? ' 

Lucy. My lord, I think I know when I see a man in 
love. 

Dex. You know lots o’ things, I admit. But it a’n’t pos- 
sible to know for certain, whether a man’s in love. 

Lucy. Yes, I think even that is possible. 

Dex. If you could only show for certain he’s not in 
love, I ’d give it up. 

Lucy. Very well, then. I’ll undertake to show it; but 
you ’ll have to die first. 

Dex. Die ! Pshaw ! you’re jokin’ ! How should I know 
anything about it if I was dead ? 

Lucy. Listen, my lord. You have already had made for 
you, in anticipation of death, and in imitation of the Great 
Cardinal Wolsey, as you call him, a splendid coffin. 

Dex. {somewhat alarmed.) Well? 

Lucy. To that extent you are prepared to die. 

Dex. Yes, — to that extent. 

Lucy. And the coffin, costing so much, should be utilized. 

Dex. Br-r-r-r ! you make me shiver ! 

Lucy. And you have had built for yourself a handsome 
tomb in the basement of your summer-house, the gilded 
arbor. 

Dex. Well ? 

Lucy. What hinders you then from dying ? . 


30 -LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. [Act IV. 

Dex. Confound it, Lucy, I don’t like to hear you talk 
so almighty cool about this thing ! 

Lucy. It ’s a pretty cool subject, my lord. 

Dex. You a’n’t goin’ to murder me, be you ? ’ 

Lucy. No, my lord, you must die by your own will. 

Dex. Good Lord, Lucy, you don’t think I ’d do that ? 

Lucy. If you refuse to die, just for a day or two, I can- 
not carry out my plan. 

Dex. {brightening.) Oh, I see ! It ’s make believe ? Good' 
Lord, Lucy, why did n’t you say so before ? 

Lucy. I thought you would have seen that. 

Dex. And so I ’m to come to life again ! what ’s the use 
of dyin’, then, anyhow? 

f Lucy. You will make a will. When the contents of that 
will are known, we shall see if the Duke loves your daugh- 
ter. 

Dex. Capital joke, a’n’t it? But you’ll see they don’t 
screw down the coffin-lid ? I must breathe, you know. 

Lucy. I ’ll stick by you, with a basketful of chicken and 
a hamper of good wine. I ’ll be all tears, my lord ; and 
you know very well, no man nor woman will dare meddle 
with the grief of Lucy Lancaster. 

Dex. By thunder, Lucy, I ’ll do it ; and we’ll see who 
keeps any tears for me. But I won’t have any crocodile- 
parson snivellin’ over me. Peaches is the man. He could 
spout a funeral sermon like a whale. Peaches knows very 
well that I ’m a great man, and he ’ll say some devilish 
handsome things about me. I ’ll drive over to Square Bil- 
lins’s right away, and git up the will. 

Lucy. Better bring the Squire here, so I can be present. 

Dex. All right, Lucy. By the way, Lucy, this death ’s 
a curus thing, a’n’t it ? Death a’n’t in the world at all, for 
when a man ’s dead, he ’s out o’ the world. Then agin. 
Death a’n’t a scare-crow, for scare-crows would n’t scare if 
the crows did n’t think the scare-crows was alive ; ergo, the 
crows need n’t be afraid of death. And then agin, lightnin’ 
is alive, a’n’t it ? Then there can’t be any death in light- 
niu’ ; ergo, lightnin’ is not death. Git that ere through 
your wool, my girl, if you can. ' [^Exit.'] 


Scene I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


31 


Lucy. I love Timoline too well to see her sacrificed. She 
shall marry some better man than De Grandam, or Tm not 
Lucy Lancaster. \_Enter Bachelder.'] 

Bach. Ah ! the House of Lancaster ! 

Lucy. Still crazy, I see, Mr. Bachelder. 

Bach. Ah, Lucy, the nature of Saturn is far more evil 
than that of Herschel ; and I was born under Saturn, — 
Saturn, Lucy, “ the Greater Infortune,” and the innocent 
cause of most human suffering. • 

Lucy. Luckily, I don’t know within a year of the time 
1 was born ; and so you can’t calculate anything for me. 

Bach. And ‘you ‘don’t believe I can for anybody else. 
Now, if I tell you that a certain great man will die during 
the next eclipse of the moon, and he does die, perhaps you’ll 
believe ? 

, Lucy. I should be inclined to. 

- Bach. Well, I tell you that. 

Lucy. And his name is 

. Bach. It begins with D. That ’s all I shall tell you. 

Lucy. Very well ; that ’s enough. \Enter Peaches.~\ 

Bach. Good morning, Mr. Peaches. 

, Pea. Good morning. Since you saw me last, I have 
writ four elegies, five eulogies, and six warnings. 

‘ Bach. On my honor, the most prolific of writers! will 
you read us one ? 

Pea. I think you would like this eulogy, writ expressly 
in derogation of “ Hot Mince Pies.” 

Bach. In derogation ? Do you not then praise “ Hot 
Mince Pies.” 

Pea. Certainly, that ’s what I mean. But the title don’t 
indicate' the subject. The title is “ Love in a Cottage.” It ’s 
always best to keep the subject in the dark. 

• Bach. Really, Mr. Peaches, I’m at a loss to see the 
connection between “ Love in a Cottage ” and “ Hot Mince 
Pies.” 

Pea. Good Heaven, sir, don’t people who live in cot- 
tages, love “ Hot Mince Pies ” just as well as other people ? 

Bach, {laughing.) Certainly. You celebrate the loves 
of cottagers for “ Hot Mince Pies 1 ” 


32 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act IV. 


Pea. That’s just what I do. 

Bach. What else have you ? 

Pea. I ’ve a handsome warning for a certain great man 
against the next great eclipse of the moon. 

Bach. Mr. Peaches, you stole that subject. 

Pea. Do you remember the bargain we made ? 

Bach. Perfectly. So many stars for so much you 

know what. 

Pea. And after I come away, I thought it was mighty 
mean of you not to throw in the ’clipses ; so, as you didn’t, 
I helped myself. 

Bach, {laughing.') Well, if you ’re not afraid of the 
consequences, go ahead. But \_solemnly~\ I tell you the 
Caput Argol Medusae is not to be trifled with. 

Pea. {alarmed.) Why, really, Mr. Bachelder, I hope I 
did no great harm. I would n’t say hard things of a flea. 
But if you object I’ll burn it, Mr. Bachelder, [much af- 
fected ] I ’ll burn it. 

Bach. That would be cruel, Mr. Peaches, to burn an in- 
offensive flea. 

Pea. Oh, no, no ; I mean I will burn the warning. 

Bach. I could not consent, Mr. Peaches, to so great a 
sacrifice. 

Pea. {affected.) Thank you ! thank you ! I confess it 
would nearly break my heart to do it. 

Lucy. Mr. Bachelder, perhaps we ’d better drop this sub- 
ject. Because you were born so horribly unhappy, it ’s no 
reason for making everybody else miserable. Mr. Peaches, 
I will thank you to see if my lord Dexter has returned. 

Pea. Certainly, Miss Lucy. [Exit., bowing. 

BacHm {taking his hat.) Farewell, O House of Lancas- 
ter, farewell. [Exit.'] 

Lucy. So then, at the next eclipse of the moon, a great 
man dies ; and his name begins with D. A very fortunate 
prediction. . It will help our little plan. [Enter Dexter and 
Esquire Billingsr\ 

Dex. I ’ve got him, Lucy. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Very important business, Lucy. Every 
man should make his will before he dies. 


Scene I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


83 


Lucy. I suppose because he cannot afterward. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) On the whole [solemnly~\ I should say 
that observation is germane. [aS'^Vs.] 

Dex. Here ’s foolscap for you, Square. [ Goes to the 
table.'] 

Esq. B. (ahem.) The will of a great man should be on 
parchment. 

Dex. What ’s parchment ? 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Parchment, my lord, is familiarly 
known as sheepskin ; fur off. 

Dex. No, not very fur olF ; here’s a grist of it. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) With — the — /ur — o^: ivool off. 

Dex. Oh, yes, of course, I see what you mean. The fur’s 
all off. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) I believe, my lord, [rising] I already 
understand the main provisions of your will. - [Takes a 
chair at the table.] As E before told you, my lady will be 
entitled to her dower. The balance of your property you 
bequeath and devise in bulk, to the erection of “ The Great 
Dexter Memorial.” You mean, of course, to include your 
choses in action ? 

Dex. What ’s them ? 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Unsettled matters. Balances with all 
parties whomsoever and whatsoever. 

; Dex. Every devilish one of ’em. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) And all hereditaments, corporeal and 
incorporeal. 

Dex. Thunder, Square Billins, I don’t know what 
you ’re talking about ! I can’t will away my wife and 
daughters, can I ? 

Esq. B. {ahem.) No, my lord, your wife and daughter 
are not hereditaments. 

Dex. Well, what in the devil be they, then? 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Children of hope, and heirs of a 
blessed immortality. 

Lucy. Perhaps Mr. Billings had better draw up the will 
without our interference. He says your wife must have so 
much. Very well ! You intend to give nearly all the rest 


34 LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER.' [Act IV. 

of your property to “The Dexter Memorial?” That’s 
plain, is n’t it ? 

Dex. Exactly what I want. So, Square, you may call it 
what you please, that ’s what I want. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Very well, my lord. I will take the 
parchment to my office, and to-morrow you can bring your 
witnesses. [ Gathers up his papers. Exeunt Dexter and 
Billings. Enter opposite the Duke and Lady D.'] 

Duke. I should say, my lady, that yon gentleman who 
has just disappeared, is an attorney ; and to my mind he 
walks like one who thinks he has done something of im- 
portance ; made somebody’s will, perhaps. 

Lady D. It is not unlikely \ohserving Lucy~\. Ah, 
Lucy, what weighty matter brings Mr. Billings here to- 
day ? 

Lucy. Something, I believe, as concerns the law. Has 
not my lord some debts to collect ? 

Lady D. That’s the very thing. I have heard my lord 
complaining of one Podgers, who owes him a small for- 
tune. 

Lucy. Then let Podgers beware ! \_Enter Timoline and 
Patty., now neatly dressed in calico.~\ 

‘ Tim. My lord, let me present to you my friend. Miss 
Patty Gormon. \^Patty courtesies.~\ ; 

Duke. I am glad to see one of whom I have heard so 
much. 

Patty. Thank you, sir. 

Tim. Miss Patty will stay with us a week or two. 

Patty. Oh no ! so long would make my aunty very 
sad. 

Tim. Now, Patty, you sit here. [Patty sits hy the side of 
L\icy, and they converse. Exit TimoUne.~\ 

Duke. My lady, who is this Podgers of whom you 
spoke ? 

Lady D. Really, Duke, I can’t see why you should care 
to know. 

Duke. Only for this, that I could n’t bear to have him 
swindle anybody. 


Scene L] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


r>-> 

Lady. D. And how would your knowing him prevent 
that ? 

Duke. Oh, perhaps I could get the money out of him. 

Lady D. That would, indeed, be very disinterested in 
you. \_Eiiter Dexter.'] 

Duke. My lord, what sort of a man is Podgers ? 

Dex. He ’s a cussed scoundrel. 

Duke. But will he fight? 

Dex. Fight? He wouldn’t light a rooster. 

Duke, (^resolutely.) 1 am going to kill Podgers. [^Eutcr 
Bachelder.] Ah ! Mr. Bachelder ! Mr. Bachelder, I am 
about to engage in a duel. 

Bach. As I expected. At your nativity Mars was in the 
Tenth House, and what you say does not in the least sur- 
prise me. 

Duke. I am only afraid Podgers won’t fight. 

Bach. Don’t be alarmed about that. Podgers knows 
from me that he will live to a good old age, and die at 
last, naturally, in his bed ; therefore he fears neither man 
nor the devil. 

Duke. Ah ! T will talk this little matter over with you at 
some other time. [^Enter Champney and Timoline.] 

Lady D. Timoline, I am dying to hear a song. 

Tim. I think Batty will oblige us. \_Appro'iches Patty.] 

Lady D. {to Champney.) Do you, then, write all these 
charming songs for Patty ? 

Cii. I only wish they were charming, but I think what- 
ever charm there is, comes only from the singer’s voice. 
\_Patty advances. Those not before sittiny now t >ke seats.] 

Patty. I will sing a little song of childhood. 

The wind strays over the lea, 

The brook runs away to the sea, 

And the child lives on to the man: 

Where, now, is the wind tliat strayed? 

And where is the brook that ran ? 

And where, oli, where 
Is the beautiful boy that played 
With the sunshine in his hair? 

The wind has been lost on the lea. 

And the brook has been lost in the sea. 


36 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act V. 


And the child has been lost in the man, 

But each will come back one day, 

And all by some wonderful plan; 

But when will it be ? 

When will the boy come back to his play? 

Ah, when will he come to me? 

[ The company applaud.'^ 

Lady D. Ah, Patty, that was a very sad song. Can you 
not sing something to raise our spirits again ? 

Patty, {looking toward Timoline for approval.) I will 

try. I love her not for her beauty, 

I love her not for her grace ; 

There ’s many a form as winning. 

There ’s many as bright a face ; 

N But I love her for her goodness. 

For charms that no eye can see ; 

I love her, I love her 
For what she has been to me. 

She has been to me an angel, 

A benison and a prayer, 

A mellow light in the darkness, 

A hand on the altar-stair; 

She has guided me through my sorrows 
With a patience no eye can see; 

And I love her, I love her 
For what she has been to me. 

\_Curtain falls.~\ 


ACT V. 

SCENE I. 

The grounds of Lord Dexter. On one side is seen the summer-house, con- 
taining the burial-vault. Lady D., the Duke, and Timoline discovered: 
the latter weeping. 

Tim. Oh me, I wish there never could be any more 
eclipses. 

Lady D. My dear child, I do not think you have ceased 
weeping since yesterday. It was not the eclipse that took 
away your good father ; it only happened that his death 
came at the same time. 


Scene L] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


37 


Duke. It seems to me rather as if the very heavens were 
in mourning for so great and so good a man. 

Tim. Oh, he was very good to me ; always so kind, so 
indulgent. 

Lady D. I am glad, my child, you have so much reason 
to remember your father with true filial affection. \^Enter 
Bachelder.'] 

Duke. It is a sad day, Mr. Bachelder. 

Bach. Ah, sir, we shall never see one more mournful. 
It was very sudden. 

Duke. Is it true that you had predicted the decease of 
my lord on the day of the moon’s eclipse ? 

Bach. I hope, Duke, I did not so far forget myself as to 
do that. I did,* indeed, prognosticate from the Eighth 
House that during the eclipse last night a great man wo'uld 
die ; but I named no one. 

Duke. Nevertheless, I suppose you knew it was my 
lord ? 

Bach. It certainly has that appearance. Ah, Duke, I 
am sometimes so much oppressed with this foreknowledge 
of events, I am forced to bed — made sick with previsionary 
gloom. I came down hoping I might be allowed to view 
the remains, but they tell me^ Lucy forbids them to be seen. 

Lady D. Everything has been left to Lucy. She de- 
clares no one shall see the remains until the services are 
read ; and perhaps it may be better to pursue that course. 
She herself stays by my lord with the same exclusive de- 
votion she maintained during his life. 

Bach. She is a remarkable woman. 

Duke. I have heard that some suppose her to be the 
daughter of a king in Dahomey. 

Bach. There is very- little doubt of it, my lord. \_Enter 
Champney.'] 

Lady D. Sit here, Mr. Champney. \_He sits by Tim- 
oliner^ Mr. Champney, I shall be very glad if you can 
favor us with some appropriate hymn to be sung at the 
obsequies. 

Ch. I will endeavor to make some suitable selection. 
\_Enter Lucy.'] 


38 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act V 


Lady D. Is there anything that I can do, Lucy ? 

Lucy, {sadly.) Nothing ; no, nothing. I scarcely know 
why I have wandered here. Ah, yes, \j)ressing her fore- 
head~\ there is something you can do. It is in my lord’s 
will that it shall be read to his family on the day after his 
decease ; and Mr. Billings, who has the will, may be out oi 
town, at court. 

Duke. I should think that a matter of some importance, 
being the absolute and written request of my lord. \_Enter 
Billings, with green bag, and Peaches, profusely covered with 
crape.^ Ah, that is very fortunate. Mr. Billings is already 
here. 

Esq. B. (ahem.) My lady, I bring with me the last will 
and testament of your late lamented consort, which was left 
by him in my sacred keeping. Therein I am directed to 
unfold the contents thereof on the day succeeding the 
demise of the testator. \_Takes the parchment from the hag.~\ 
I will now proceed to the reading of “ The Last Will and 
Testament of Lord Timothy Dexter, known as ‘ The 
Greatest Man in the East.’ ” \_Iieads.~\ “ I, Timothy Dex- 
ter, being in good health and of sound mind and memory, 
blessed be God therefor, do hereby make and ordain the 
following, as my Last Will and Testament. 

“ Imprimis : I bequeath and devise to my beloved wife, 
Hepsibeth, a life-estate in one equal one third part of all 
my property, real and personal, wherever situate. 

Item : I do hereby give, bequeath, and devise the remain- 
der in said equal one third part of all my property, in trust, 
to be expended by my executor on the decease of my said 
wife, for the erection of “ The Great Dexter Memorial,” in 
the town of Newburyport, which memorial I hereby direct 
shall be a pyramid of solid marble. 

Item : I give to my beloved daughter, Timoline, an 
annuity of seven hundred dollars for life. 

Item : All the residue of my estate, wherever and what- 
soever, I hereby bequeath and devise, in trust as above 
mentioned, to tlie erection of said great pyramid or me- 
morial. 

Item : I appoint my valued friend and poet-laureate, 
Plumison Peaches, Escp, to deliver my funeral oration. 


Scene I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


39 


Item : I appoint my valued friend, Jeffrey Billings, Esq., 
sole executor of this my will, and direct that the contents 
shall be read by him to my household, on the day succeed- 
ing my demise. 

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and 
seal this ninth day — ” 

Duke. Sir! will you, be good enough to read the will 
again ? It may have escaped me, but as I understood the 
will, my lord has left his family almost penniless, with the 
exception of a barren life-estate in one third, given to his 
widow. \_Dexter is seen peeping from behind a half-open 
blind in the summer-hoaseJ] 

Esq. B. (ahem.) It is too true. 

Duke, (angrily pacing to and fro.) Sir, it is a damned 
swindle ! I ’ll break the will. 

, Esq. B. (ahem.) I think, my lord, I am sufficiently 
acquainted with the law, and with the mental condition of 
testator, to inform you, as it were, juridically, that the will 
is as firm as the Pow-wow hill yonder. 

Ch. If you will allow me to explain, I may say that I 
happened to be one of the witnesses ; that I read the will, 
and suggested, then and there, a larger provision for the 
family. But my lord remarked, and I thought quite wisely, 
that money, as he well knew, was no blessing, and that 
without money his daughter would probably marry much 
better than with. 

Duke. I will see what can be done ! \_Exit in great rage.'] 

Tim. It was exactly right ; and much more indeed, than 
I either need or deserve. 

Ch. (to Lady D. and Timoline.) I think, ladies, it is 
time you had some rest ; and I would suggest that while 
these mournful preparations are being made, you will seek 
what you most need. 

Lady D. and Tim. (rising.) Thank you, Mr. Champ- 
ney. \_Exeunt Lady D. and Timoline.] 

Pea. Good Lord, Mr. Bill ins, you don’t think I can git 
up a funeral oi-ation in five minutes, do you ? 

Esq. B. (ahem.) You will have ample time, sir. 

Pea. But, sir, it would take all of two days simply to 
catalogue the property. 


40 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


[Act V. 


Esq. B. {ahem.) I am not aware, Mr. Peaches, that you 
are the executor of the will. You will attend strictly to 
your legitimate business. It is the executor’s privilege to 
inventory the estate ; it is yours to inventory the decedent’s 
virtues. 

Bach, {laughing.) As thus, Mr, Peaches : — 

Ten acts of common kindness, worth ... 25 cents each. 

Eighteen acts of generosity, worth . . . .28 cents each. 

Two deeds of heroism, worth ..... 29 cents each. 

One self-sacrifice, somewhat equivocal, hence depreciated 

in value, worth 14 cents. 

Columnar virtues, Mr. Peaches ! 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Allow me to suggest, Mr. Bachelder, 
that this is hardly the time or place for unseemly levity. 

Bach. I beg your pardon ; I meant no harm. \^Aside to 
Peaches.'] Be good enough to tell me, friend Peaches, to 
what extent you are interested in the will of my lord. 

Pea. {sighing.) Alas, Mr. Bachelder, only in honor. 
That ’s about all we poor devils get ; but [straightening iip] 
it ’s a great honor, Mr. Bachelder. 

Ch. Mr. Peaches, I trust you will have ample time to 
complete your oration. 

Pea. I tell you what, Champney, it’s a pretty tight 
squeeze. Don’t you think you could keep him over a day 
or two ? [ Champney walks away, speaks to Billings, and 
exit.] 

Bach. Keep him over ! why, he smells already. 

Pea. Good Lord, how he smells ! [Puts his handkerchief 
to his nose] and did ii’t leave a single cent, did he, for in- 
fectuaries ? 

Bach. Disinfectants, do you mean ? 

Pea. I don’t care what you call it ; but how am I goin’ 
to deliver an hour’s oration with a smelling-bottle under 
my nose ? and how can I without one ? You see I ’m in a 
pretty quandary. 

Bach. I think I can tie on a small bottle of ammonia for 
you, fastening the strings in some way behind your ears ; 
or lill a small - tub with cologne-water, and stand you up in 
that. 


SCE^^K I.] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


41 

Pea. The idea of deliverin’ an oration, standin’ in a 
wash-tub ! 

Bach. Of course, if you puti it that way, Mr. Peaches, 
you make it seem ridiculous. But you 'forget there’s poetry 
enough in the cologne to completely vaporize the idea of 
the wash-tub. In other words, the disagreeable sense of 
the ’tub evaporates in the agreeable sense of the cologne. 
\_Dexter is seen at the summer-house window laughing 

Pea. But who pays the cologne bill? There’s nothin’ 
in the will for it. ‘ 

{Lugubriously.) I pay the cologne-bill. \_All start 
and look toward the summer-house 

Pea. Oh, Lord, he’s goin’ to be a ghost! Oh, Lord! 
\_Half kneeling.'] 

Bach. Upon my word, that was very singular. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) It is possible, my friends \_'patroniz- 
ingly\ you have never heard of such a thing as a hallucina- 
tion ? Allow me to inform you that the sound you heard, 
was a hallucination. Dead men don’t speak. 

Pea. Does Lucinations talk English ? 

Esq. B. {ahem.) When a man is under a hallucination, he 
may hear one language as well as another. 

Pea. Well, then, let the Lucination talk Dutch, confound 
him. 

Dex. {lugubriously.) Chee-Lee-Nu-Ru-Oh-Wah-Kah. 
\_Peaches sits on the ground and Bachelder in a chair. All 
look much astonished.] 

Pea. Oh, Lord ! Oh, Lord ! 

Bach. Mr. Billings, if you think that ’s a hallucination, 
perhaps you’d better step in there and introduce yourself. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Why, Mr. Bachelder, a man wouldn’t 
see anything there but the corpse, if he went. 

Pea. Can’t you see a Lucination ? 

Esq. B. {ahem.) No, Mr. Peaches ; therefore be calm. 

Pea. I be calm. It ’s the Lucination as don’t keep 
calm. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Why, Mr. Peaches, it ’s no more than 
an ignis fatuus. 

Pea. Oh, Lord, I ’ve heard enough o’ them ignis fatuuses. 


42 LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. [Act V 

Bach. I say, Mr. Billings, if you a’n’t afraid, go in 
th(3re. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) Mr. Bachelder, since you seem to think 
there’s something supernatural about it, allow me to suggest 
that if the art you profess amounts to anything, you can il- 
lustrate that fact by stepping in there, yourself, and laying 
the ghost. But perhaps you are afraid ? 

Bach. Come on then. I ’ll show you I ’m not afraid. 
Come on. Peaches. \_Pidls Peaches up and pushes him to- 
ward the summer-house, he endeavoring to get away.~\ 

Pea. Oh, Lord ! no, no, I say! You go first! You said 
you wan’t afraid. \_Exlricates himself. As he turns round 
he meets Dexter, who has entered opposite, screams and 
faints. Bachelder sinks to the floor in amazement. Dexter 
hursts into a roar of laughter. Billings looks sober for a 
time, and then suddenly begins to laugh as heartily as Dexter. 
Lucy runs for water, which she pours on the head of Peaches, 
and he revives.~\ 

Dex. Chee-Lee-Nu-Ru-Oh-Wah-Kah. I pay the cologne 
bill. 

Pea. {gasping.) Oh, Lord ! Oh, Lord ! \_Dexter pulls 
Peaches up and dances across the grounds with him.~\ 

Lucy. I must go and break the good news to my lady. 
\_Exit.'] 

Dex. Do I smell as bad as I did. Peaches ? 

Pea. You must remember, my lord, that we poets have 
a very lively imagination. Good Lord, sir, I laid out a dol- 
lar or two on this crape, and all for no good ! 

Dex. I ’m really sorry. Peaches. I ’spose I ought to die, 
now, sure enough, so you need n’t waste your money. But 
I ’ll buy it in. Peaches, and save it up against your funeral. 

Esq. B. {ahem.) My lord, I congratulate you on being 
once more with us ; but it knocks a pretty considerable hole 
in my fees, you see, as the sole executor of your will. \_En- 
ter Champney, Lady D.. Timoline, and Lucy. Lady I), and 
Timoline rush to my lord, and embrace him with many 
tears. He is also much affected.~\ 

Dex. The devil said he would n’t have me down there 
unless I came back and changed my will : so you see I ’ve 
come. There, now, [leading them to a seaf^ it ’s all right, 


Scene I ] 


LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER. 


43 


you see. No more tears ! I shall think you are crying be- 
cause I came back. Well, Bachelder, the great man did n’t 
die after all. Champiiey, \_seizing him by the hand~\ burn 
my face, Champney, but the girl ’s yours. \_Leads him to the 
side of Timoline.^ Bachelder, this astrology ’s a big thing, 
a’n’t it ? 

Bach. I ’m glad to see you back, my lord. But you ’ll 
remember, I mentioned no names. I rather think you ’ll 
hear by the next ship from Europe of some other great man 
who died last night. 

Dex. No, Bachelder, the man who died was the man in 
the moon. I ’ll give you the space between here and there 
to find out when his funeral comes off*. I know a thing or 
two about space, Bachelder. You think it ’s all the same, 
don’t you ? But I sa}" it ’s full o’ holes as a beggar’s coat. 
The moon bores a hole in it, don’t it ? Well, you say, that 
ere hole fills up agin. Then I ask whether or no you can’t 
fill up the holes in a pepper-box ? You think there ’s no end 
to space, don’t you ? But I say it ends where the holes be- 
gin. Ergo, space has about a million ends to it, don’t you 
see ? But Peaches, here, he ’s been defrauded. Go, Bach- 
elder, and cut some laurel in the garden. Peaches is a 
laureate without a crown. 

Bach. Shall I dip it in cologne, my lord ? 

Dex. Yes, dip it in cologne. [^Eocit Bachelder. Enter op- 
posite the Duke.'] Holloa, Duke ! 

Duke. The deuce, my lord, you back ? 

Dex. Yes, Duke, and with bad news for you. The devil 
took me one side and whispered : “ When you see one 
Duke de Grandam, tell him [m a loud whisper] I want 
him.” \_Enter Bachelder.] 

Bach. My lord, there ’s nothing there but these carrot- 
tops. Will they do ? 

Dex. Yes, for an astrologer, but not for a poet. And 
now, my friends, [turning to the audience] thanking you, as 
the editors say, for your interest in the fortunes of so hum- 
ble an individual as we are, we beg leave to retire, in order 
that after so long a travailing in the world below, we may 
obtain a portion of such poor repose as this upper world 
affords. [ Curtain falls.] 




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